Layers
by EuphoniumGurl0
Summary: Jill wasn't ready to deploy, but without her, Alpha Team was missing a weapons' expert. The only option was to find a replacement. Chris/Piers
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: Hi, and welcome to 'Layers,' a two-chaptered journey into the progression of the relationship between our two favorite Resident Evil men, Piers Nivans and Chris Redfield. If I have any faithful readers from other fandoms who have happened to stumble across this, know that it's not my most clever story, nor is it my fluffiest, nor is it my funniest. It's just a thought that popped into my head after replaying Resident Evil 6, as a ways to get a bit of romance into a relationship that was cut tragically short in-game. I hope you get some enjoyment out of it.

**Warnings**: A/U, M/M romance

* * *

19 August 2010 : 1904 hours

"Jill, I really don't think you're ready to get back out there," he said frankly, _strongly_, trying to use his large stature to intimidate her into agreeing with him - all in vain, he knew, because he was dealing with the most stubborn woman to have ever graced God's green Earth.

She raised her eyebrows at him, a laugh starting to bubble in her throat as her deep, red lips flipped upward into an open-mouthed smile. He saw her ample chest heaving before he heard her masculine guffaw. She wasn't just laughing. She was laughing _at _him, mocking him, because she knew what he had just tried to do, and the thought of Chris Redfield trying to intimidate her was the funniest thing she had ever experienced.

Chris's stony facade slowly slipped off his face. Her uninhibited laughter was contagious, and although he managed to stay at least somewhat reserved, he couldn't control the laugh/sigh that escaped his lips.

"Oh Chris, I don't care what Alpha team says. You're _hilarious_," she said, trying to catch her breath and simultaneously wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Well thanks, I guess?" he questioned, before he shook his head. "_Wait_ a second... _What _has Alpha team been saying?" He frowned deeply. "They don't think I'm funny?"

Jill collapsed onto the comfortable, brown leather sofa that adorned the living room of Chris's home in the finally rebuilt city of Raccoon. Or rather, just north of it, where the BSAA was planning to establish a military base once the government approved the funding ("Bureaucratic shit," as Jill called it).

"Just Marco," she said, kicking off her flats and putting her feet on his coffee table. She looked up at him with a smile and patted the seat next to her.

He continued to glare at her, his pride deeply wounded with the knowledge that his soldiers didn't appreciate his jokes. He put some good stuff out there. Mostly stolen from the Internet, granted, but he still took credit for delivery.

"Oh don't give me that face, and don't pout," she said harshly, flipping her hair dramatically. "I'm only kidding. You _know _everyone loves you."

He continued to gaze at her skeptically, until he finally gave in. "You're the one whose jokes aren't funny."

She snorted, as if the mere thought was preposterous.

"And why is your hair still blonde?" he asked scathingly.

"I like it blonde," she said, flippantly dismissing his dig. "And guys like it blonde, too."

Chris groaned. "I don't want to hear about you whoring your way through STARS, _or _the BSAA, _or _any other government agency, Jill."

She smiled, still unfazed. "I haven't gone _all_ the way through. There's still Leon."

"Good luck with that one," he said, highly doubting she stood a shot in hell with Leon Kennedy.

"That's what they said about you," she said, flipping on the TV and starting to channel surf.

Chris pursed his lips, grabbed the remote from her hand, and turned the TV off. "Yeah, that was _one _time, because I was relatively sure neither one of us would make it out alive, and I hadn't had sex in six months. And I didn't invite you here to talk about any of this."

"You're moody," she said, turning to face him.

"I don't want you to go out there yet, Jill," he said desperately.

"You were being _serious _just now," she said, taken aback, having genuinely thought he was joking. She blinked a few times and took a deep breath in. "Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, it's unnecessary. I'm ready to come back."

"Your _body_ isn't ready yet," he said, shaking his head firmly.

After the confrontation with Wesker, neither Jill or Chris had realized how badly injured Jill was until they were safely back in the US. Purging the virus out of her body had wiped out her immune system. She became weak, susceptible to illnesses of all sorts, because of that, the physicians in charge of her care didn't trust her body to make it through the operations she required. It had been a year since they'd gotten back, and Jill had just started training with the BSAA again. Because of how long she'd been bedridden, her muscles had atrophied, and she couldn't even keep up on their warm-up runs during PT without being fatigued. She was improving steadily, but she wasn't ready to deploy with any unit yet, let alone his Alpha team, which took the most dangerous and most difficult missions.

She looked away, her eyes glazing over in a way that was all too familiar to him. Jill was the most upbeat person he knew, but sometimes the flashbacks of what she went through hit her worse than any BOW ever could. She tried to shake it off, but during moments like this, the bitterness tried to battle its way through.

"I'm not a paper pusher, Chris. I don't like sitting at HQ, watching satellite feed of you getting your ass kicked, all because I'm not there to save it," she said, a small smile starting to tug at her lips again as she finished the thought.

"I know, I know," he said, putting his arm around her and ruffling her hair. "I don't like you not being there to save my ass either. There's no one on Alpha team who's even half as good with a firearm as you are, and believe me, I'm counting down the days until you're back, at _full _capacity, because anything less would be an insult to both of us."

He smiled genially at her, knowing from the look on her face that he'd worn her down, that he'd won this round. This was better for her and better for the organization in the long run. Jill Valentine at full capacity was better than any army of BOWs deployed by any terrorist organization. He knew it to be true.

"This one really will be tough without a weapons expert, though," Chris said with a sigh, having temporarily forgotten he'd come to talk her out of a mission they would be deployed on in three weeks' time.

They were going to South America, where word reached back to them that some of Wesker's research had been leaked and new BOWs were being developed, not by some miniscule small-cell terrorist group, but by a group of power-hungry politicians looking to purge a country or two to gain control of more land. They didn't know how dangerous what they were dealing with was. Or at least he hoped they didn't. The alternative was the evil of humanity. _Again_.

They'd been sitting on this information for some time now, the US having sent special agents to gather more intel, to gain concrete evidence, so that the BSAA could intervene. But as it stood, they were careful, and all they had were whisperings that an attack was scheduled. It was incredibly frustrating to know an attack was imminent but be unable to do anything about it until it happened, because of political ropes and hoops to jump through.

Jill, seemingly unable to cope with any more sadness for the day, opted instead to leap off the couch like a hyperactive puppy, and wag her tail madly, a glint of _something_ in her eye.

"_I _know!" she exclaimed, sticking her pointer finger in the air. She put on her shoes, grabbed her purse, and sprinted for the door.

"Uhhh?" Chris asked, confused as ever.

She ignored him completely, and instead swept through the door, exiting as if she'd never been there at all, only leaving him with a deep feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, like he always had when Jill had an epiphany.

* * *

20 August 2010 : 1400 hours

"Dismissed," he bellowed and watched with a smile on his face as five defeated soldiers slumped their shoulders and began to drag ass - muddy, sweaty, and thoroughly exhausted ass - back to the locker room.

They were off for a seldom-received three-day weekend. He'd given them that much, not knowing how long they'd be in South America or whether they'd come out of it unscathed. Giving them three-day weekends for two weeks before they began the process of getting ready to go was the least he could do. And even if they weren't set to deploy at the end of the month, he'd probably still have given them the extra break because of the sheer brutality of what he'd put them through today. He knew it was hard, because it was even difficult for him, he had to admit, but he was doing it for them. They knew it, too, and that's why there was no complaining when they didn't get a lunch break and instead were drilled up and down the side of a mountain with equipment that weighed as much as another human being strapped to their backs. Conditions were worse in hostile territory, and the better shape they were in, both mentally and physically, the better off they'd be.

"Coming, Captain?" Jeff asked, as the rest of the team paused to turn and look at him.

"Yeah, you go on ahead," Chris said with a soft smile. "I've just got a call to make first."

The exhausted soldiers didn't need to be told twice, and they began walking toward the showers again, eager for the warm water to soothe their sore muscles. Chris desperately wanted to get out of his drenched clothes as much as they did, but unlike them, his day wasn't over yet. He was catching a plane to Washington, where he'd spend the next three days in meetings with various government bodies. Hopefully the CIA would send Leon to fill him in on the new intel. At least he'd get a few beers in him then instead of having to look pretty in a suit for some stiffs he couldn't care less about.

The only silver lining was that Jill hadn't come. She'd faithfully been attending camps, drills, and PT sessions with the Alpha team, instead of training with the Air Force whose base they were utilizing, where the drills would surely be more forgiving. He'd come up with today's brutality in case he couldn't convince her not to go on the upcoming mission with reason. It would be proof staring her in the face that she wasn't ready physically. He guessed he didn't need it after all.

He took out his phone smugly and dialed her number. She picked up on the second ring.

"Hey Chris," she said enthusiastically. "You look like ass. Why don't you grab a shower?"

He spun on his heel and began looking around him in search of her. "Yeah, I was going to after I called you..." There was nothing in sight. "Where are you?"

"Watching you," she said playfully yet mysteriously, in a way that only Jill Valentine could.

"I gathered that," he said gruffly. "Where from?"

"Washington," she said teasingly. "Watched the base's satellite feed for a bit. You really put them through the ringer, didn't you?"

"Washington?" he asked, ignoring her following statement. "Why are you in Washington?"

"Business," she said cryptically, in a sing-song voice. "I'll fill you in when you get here. I've got a surprise for you."

"Every time you say that, I get this stabbing feeling in my gut like I'm going to wake up with no eyebrows... _again_."

She laughed maniacally over the phone. "Valid fears normally, but in this instance, the surprise is good. See you tonight!"

"Yeah, sure," he mumbled, "tonight," and he hung up the phone.

This had to be the same thing that made her bolt out of his house yesterday. Curiosity was killing him. Trying to figure out what would be waiting for him in DC, he trudged to the showers, mindful of the fact that he was being watched and should wait to scratch his itchy balls when he had a roof over his head. The last thing he needed was to have a welcome party for him at the nation's capital that included a loop of him fondling himself.

* * *

20 August 2010 : 2243 hours

Despite his exhaustion, he managed to make it through various meetings, where he was told in not so many words to shut up and pretend that what he was about to do never happened and would never happen. The US was not sending any military personnel into another country without the knowledge of that country's leadership and/or the UN. The US minded its own business. That was the official stance they would be taking.

He felt like he was being told "don't get caught, but if you do, you're on your own, unless it goes well, in which case we're taking credit." He wasn't terribly concerned about this display of selfishness and general asshole-ish-ness. He'd heard it before, and he was used to it. Furthermore, they were only telling him this because they still weren't convinced that there was something foul afoot. They were afraid of being caught in another country which was doing nothing wrong, thereby starting a conflict which didn't previously exist.

Chris believed in the intel his men had gathered, and he was sure that when he met with Leon tomorrow, Leon would confirm his beliefs.

Ready to go to bed, Chris forced himself to plod to the bar where Jill said she was. He hadn't heard from or seen her since he'd arrived several hours ago, and that was strange for her. She usually nosed her way in. She must have been preoccupied with whatever secret she was hiding.

A short walk from his hotel, where he'd changed from his suit to a more relaxed jeans and plain grey t-shirt, he found himself at the bar. He'd already texted Jill saying that he was on his way, and she'd told him where she was. Fighting his way through the Friday night crowd, he finally spotted her at the bar, yelling a drink order at the bartender.

"Jill!" he bellowed, waving to her.

She turned around suddenly and beamed at him, before turning to the bartender and amending her order. She was a simple person with simple tastes when it came to her alcohol. She liked beer, beer, and more beer, and Chris was much the same way. When he made it over to her, he was surprised when she thrust a beer into his hands, still holding two in her own.

"Two at once, Jill?" he asked, raising his eyebrow in question. "I already know what kind of night this is going to be. If you vomit in my hotel room, you can explain to accounting why they didn't get their deposit back."

She laughed at the memory but shook her head. "No, this other one isn't for me. I've got someone I want you to meet."

"Who?" he asked, squeezing his large body into tiny openings of people, following her lead to a corner of the room.

She didn't explain however until they got to their table, where a man who looked to be just about freshly out of high school, his cheeks flushed slightly, bright green eyes focused on his phone screen, his brown hair sticking vertically upward due to a copious amount of mousse or gel. He was wearing a simple black v-neck and jeans, which fit his sculpted young body fairly well.

"Chris, this is Piers Nivans, your new weapons expert. Piers, meet your new CO, Chris Redfield," Jill said casually.

"Captain," Piers said, saluting him. "It's an honor to have the opportunity to work with you, Sir."

Chris looked at Jill blankly, then turned back to the nervous but respectful young man and clasped his hand in a firm handshake.

"It's nice to meet you, Piers. We're not in a formal setting, so you don't have to salute, and you can call me Chris," he said with amusement, noticing the man's cheeks grow almost imperceptibly more red. He turned back to Jill. "I didn't know my team had 'help wanted' ads plastered on notice boards around the nation, Jill. Your doing?"

Jill laughed and opened her mouth to speak, but Piers beat her to it. "With all due respect, I have a military background, Sir. I'm the top-ranked army sniper in the nation, and I have extensive training in both special weaponry and linguistics. Again, I don't mean to speak out of line, Captain, but I'm not a random."

Chris could see the amusement building in Jill's eyes and the fiery passion in Piers's. He chuckled and shook his head, sitting down on one of the stools. He didn't bother correcting Piers again. He thought that forcing the young man to address him informally would make him so uncomfortable he might spontaneously combust in flames of insubordination and awkward youth.

"You're sort of young to be a vet, aren't you?" Chris asked, cocking his head to the side, impressed nevertheless with his accomplishments.

"I'm active duty, Sir," Piers clarified.

"You're still under contract with the army?" Chris furrowed his brow in confusion and turned to Jill for an explanation.

"That's what I've been doing here for the past two days. You need someone on Alpha team who fills in the gaps you have, the gaps yours truly leaves, and I've had my eye on Piers here for a while. I managed to make, let's just say, a _deal _with the army in exchange for Piers's transfer of branches," she explained, taking a swig of her beer.

"I didn't know that was possible," Chris said, still trying to size up Piers.

"It's not," she said nonchalantly. "But that just made it all the more fun."

Chris chuckled and rubbed his forehead in defeat. There was no point in arguing. When Jill wanted something, she got it. Furthermore, he didn't really want to argue. They did have holes in the team, and Jill was the most shrewd person in the world, so if he was up to snuff with her, he was the best of the best.

He made a mental note to ask her later what she'd exchanged that would be worth letting one of their best soldiers go.

"How much do you know about the BSAA, Piers?" Chris asked curiously. It was still so new that most people weren't quite sure what the point of them was.

Piers, however, didn't have any such problem. He repeated the full mission statement and founding principles back to him without a hint of hesitation.

Chris smiled warmly at him. The kid was bright, talented, earnest, and unafraid. He could tell that just from spending five minutes from him.

"When are you joining us in Raccoon City for training?" Chris asked.

"Tuesday 0600, Sir. I've received orders to deploy with you on the next mission," Piers said, surprising Chris.

"So soon?" he asked, slightly concerned. Was he really ready to dive in without more training?

"I've filled him in on the mission. You need a second-in-command, Chris, and if it can't be me, _fine_, but it has to be someone," Jill said firmly. "Besides, we watched a satellite feed of your PT this morning, and the kid thinks he can keep up."

Chris saw confidence in Piers's eyes, affirming what Jill had just said. He couldn't help but smile.

"What'd you think?" Chris asked curiously.

"I'm impressed that no one fell behind," Piers said truthfully.

Chris took a drink of his beer and smiled at the man sitting next to him. "No man is ever left behind on Alpha team. We all go, or we all die trying. All my soldiers know that, and every single one of them is specially selected and trained for my team, not only physically, but mentally as well."

"As it should be, Sir," Piers said, his eyes glowing brightly.

Chris clasped Piers's shoulder and squeezed firmly. "Drink your beer tonight, Piers. And welcome to the BSAA's North American Alpha team."

"I'll drink to that!" Jill exclaimed, clanking her beer eagerly with the two men before downing it all in one giant gulp.

* * *

21 August 2010 : 0203 hours

"I've now been awake for twenty-four hours, and I have to wake up at 0800," Chris murmured, not pleased at all with the very drunk Jill Valentine he was now escorting back to his hotel on the still crowded streets of Washington DC, where young partygoers were continuing their drinking out on the streets now that the bars had booted them out.

Jill burped in response, letting Chris pull her into the hotel lobby and toward the nearest elevator.

He couldn't be too angry with her, really, since he could have gone at any time. He _should _have gone. Jill had been absent a large portion of the night, having made it her goal to befriend every single person in the bar, and largely succeeding, as they didn't have to pay for a single drink the entire night. Instead he stayed and chatted with his new recruit, who opened up in direct relation to the number of drinks he'd had. It was a difficult task to get him to drink, as he was determined to stay in control and professional despite his young age, but Jill resorted to pulling rank on him and making him down a shot or a bottle of beer every time she floated back to their table.

He'd never seen anyone look so uncomfortable and fiercely determined to not show it before. It was rather endearing to see a kid these days that was confident yet reserved. Once his shell started peeling back, Chris was treated to the company of an interesting young man who had been offered scholarships to the world's best universities but opted instead to enlist in the military because of his strong sense of justice.

Piers was an only child who found brotherhood with his comrades and advanced ranks faster than should have been possible, but he was humble about this, saying that he would do whatever his chain of command thought would best utilize his skills - wherever he would do the most good in the world. This humanitarian drive led him to train in a myriad of different fields, including bomb disposal, weaponry, linguistics, and interrogation - all in four years' time. It was incredible.

Chris thought he had been a natural, but this kid would be better than him in five years, tops.

And he had a wonderful sense of humor. Despite his determination to do good for humankind, he could be cynical and was easily annoyed by people who he deemed behaved inappropriately. The more drinks Chris and Jill got in him, the more he couldn't resist the urge to comment on the other patrons of the bar, some of whom were a bit sleazy, he had to admit. Piers's comments were clever, comparing them to politicians and characters from literature. He wasn't all pop culture, this kid. He had substance.

And before Chris knew it, he was telling the kid all about his family, his sister, and intimate details of his personal life that people usually had to fight out of him. Piers, for his part, responded enthusiastically and shared information about himself as well. He was easy to talk to.

The elevator dinged, and the doors closed.

"What'd you think of the kid?" Jill slurred.

"He's a bit stiff, but we'll loosen him up, I'm sure," Chris said with a grin.

"He's a little spitfire, but he works hard to keep the beast chained up. He's perfect for you," Jill said confidently.

"I agree," Chris said with a laugh. "He seems like a good kid."

"And he's incredibly attractive," Jill said, once the elevator dinged again, and they walked to Chris's room.

Chris pulled the card out of his back pocket, leaving Jill temporarily unsupported on the door's frame. She took the opportunity to fall through the door once he'd opened it. He barely caught her, unable to hold back his laughter. He dragged her in, shutting the door behind him, and placed her on the couch in the living area.

Once safely seated, Chris walked to the kitchenette and poured two glasses of water. He downed his own and brought the other over to Jill. She took it clumsily.

"Did you hear what I said?" she asked. "The kid's hot, don't you think?"

"I heard what you said," Chris said, shaking his head, "but I chose to ignore it."

"I was flirting with him all night, but he wouldn't so much as dance with me," she complained, kicking off her shoes and taking a sip.

"I don't think he's the type for dancing," Chris said frankly, trying his best to suppress his snort of laughter.

"I think you're more likely to get a shot with him than I am, if you know what I mean," she said, eyeing him meaningfully.

This time Chris couldn't hold down the snort. "Just because a guy knows better than to be interested in one of his bosses doesn't mean he's gay. Leon Kennedy isn't going to bed you either, but he's clearly not gay."

"He didn't look at a single woman the entire night," Jill said, ignoring his dig.

"Was he ogling every man that walked by him then?" Chris asked skeptically.

"No," Jill said, furrowing her brow. "Just the one he was doe-eyed for - the one right in front of him."

Chris shook his head. "I'm going to bed. Good night, Jill."

"Don't ignore what I say, Chris!" she exclaimed, but it was too late. Chris had shut the door to his room and was falling into a dreamless sleep before she'd finished her whining.

* * *

21 August 2010 : 0759 hours

"Chris."

Chris heard the familiar rumble of a voice in a slightly higher pitch than his own but lacking none of the gruffness. He immediately turned and loosened the tie around his neck.

_Thank God._

"Leon," he said gratefully, extending his hand and grasping the blond man's.

"Happy to see me?" Leon asked with a chuckle.

"You have no idea," he said with a laugh of his own.

"I overheard what some of the suits were telling you yesterday. If I hadn't had other things to attend to with the president, I would have come in to save you," Leon said sympathetically, seating himself at the round conference room table.

Chris followed suit and shook his head, groaning at the memory. "Those are the moments when I'm glad I'm in my thirties. If I'd had to sit through five hours of that bullshit ten years ago, I would've opened fire."

"Ten years ago, I _did _open fire at my boss for pissing me off," Leon said, a wry smile on his face.

The two exchanged an inappropriately amused glance before shifting their guilty faces to the table, struggling to contain their smiles, as the door to the conference room opened.

"I don't know what you two were just laughing about, and I don't want to know," said a surprisingly high voice from the doorway.

"Claire," Chris said in surprise, standing up and enveloping his sister in an immediate hug. He let go of her and examined her, dressed in combat clothing, a gun holstered to her waist. "What are you doing here?"

"Chris, I'll explain, but you've got to move out of the doorway. We still have one more," she said, smiling sweetly at her brother.

Chris nodded his head deftly and looked curiously behind her, surprised to see the new recruit that Jill had been so engrossed with. "This morning is getting more and more interesting by the second. First Leon, then Claire, and now the rookie."

Chris clasped Piers on the shoulder roughly, and instead of stumbling from the harder-than-intended tap, the man hunkered his feet into the ground, shifting his weight to one side. Like he was bearing the weight of a gun. How interesting.

"Captain," he greeted respectfully, bringing his slim hands to his throat and loosening the mesh scarf around his neck that Chris hadn't even noticed was there.

He looked the younger man up and down blatantly, noticing that he was wearing camouflaged uniform pants, heavy work boots, and the army's standard PT shirt. He was in combat gear, Claire was in combat gear, Leon was in jeans and a canvas jacket, and Chris was in a suit. What the hell?

Chris sat back down at the table, as Claire pulled the tablet at the end of the table toward her, ushering Piers to sit down next to her without even looking at him. She typed, pointed, and projected a satellite image in the air above the table. She pulled up a few other windows, doing technological wizardry that Chris had never bothered with. Once she set up what she had meant to, she turned to Chris and sighed, smiling in a relaxed way.

"So, an explanation, right?" she asked her brother, waiting for him to nod before she continued. "Here's the short version. About six months ago, TerraSave was requested by the UN to provide aid to people in Iceland that had been injured by the rogue BOW that'd been launched by a small group of terrorists. Do you remember that incident?"

"Yeah, we dispatched Delta team to deal with it, but it was already downed by the time they got there," Chris said, nodding as he remembered the tiny incident that had been overshadowed by more significant outbreaks in the months that followed.

"Sergeant Nivans was the one responsible. He had his team lure it into a cave where explosives had been set up around the perimeter. He then used his sniper to blind it, causing it to stumble backward long enough for his team to escape, and then set off the charges, causing the cave to implode, killing the BOW," Claire explained. "Thanks to his swift action, no civilians were hurt, and no damage was caused to nearby towns or cities. And that's where I met him."

So the kid was not only familiar with BOWs, which made Chris sigh an internal breath of relief, but he'd actually downed one.

"To think that I'd almost let Jill take credit for finding you," Chris said with a smile, causing the boy's cheeks to flush in embarrassment. "I'm guessing she got his name from you."

"I'm glad she managed to work it out. I was worried about you with this mission coming up," Claire said, her voice deepening with concern. "It's a big one, Chris. My entire team will be on stand-by in Central America should we be needed to aid the injured. I've even been refreshing my fighting skills, in case you need more than just a healing hand."

That explained their gear. They must have been out before the sun had even come up, which surprised Chris considering that Piers was out with him last night.

"Hopefully it won't have to come to that," Chris said. "What'd you find out, Leon?"

"It's not great news, Chris," Leon said, shaking his head, as he and Claire started talking him through the latest news of the trouble that was brewing.

Chris was glad he was getting this information transferred onto his phone as well, as he had trouble focusing on their words. He found his eyes drifting to the young ace sitting across from him. He was listening intently to the information, absorbing it like a sponge. Chris could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes darkening to the shade of a forest at sunset. He knew that look. He wasn't just taking the information in. He was making a battle plan, each new piece of the puzzle causing a recalculation. Every now and then, the space below his cheekbones ticked. He was gritting his teeth, frustrated.

He wanted to speak up. He wanted to give input. It wasn't in his nature to not contribute, and he was fighting the urge with each passing minute. The only reason he wasn't was his respect for the chain of command and his willingness to take whatever lead Chris presented him with - which was none at the moment, as the older man was too busy observing his new partner squirm to contribute. The more fidgety Piers became, the more Chris liked him.

He knew it'd be temporary. Once they worked together and Piers realized the sort of guy Chris was, he was sure that he'd be questioning his every move, thinking he could do better. He was cocky and impatient. It came with youth, and Chris appreciated that. It would add life back to the horrible job they were tasked with.

Piers crossed one, muscular arm across his lean body and rested the other on top of it, bringing his hand up to his chin, running his pointer finger in the dip between his chin and pouty, pink lips. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Chris found himself briefly mesmerized by the action of him wetting his lips. He then moved the hand on his chin back down to his scarf and loosened it some more, showing off the irritated, pink flesh on his neck.

Chris never got the point of the mesh scarves that snipers wore, but he respected their dedication to staying undetected. Right now, however, his mind was less on the point of them and more on making a mental note to get Piers a softer one, one more appropriate for the sensitive, smooth skin on his neck.

He was distracted from his thoughts as Piers brought the same hand to lay flat on top of the other one for a moment, before he started scratching his arm. He doubted his arm was itchy. He was getting more fidgety by the second. They'd been sitting there, listening to Leon and Claire give report like a well-oiled machine for nearly an hour, and he was already growing impatient.

Chris's lips curved upward into a smile subconsciously, seeing why Jill had grown smitten with the boy. He was talented, humble, good-natured, and behind his polite exterior, clear as day for anyone with an eye for people to see, a spitfire, just like Jill had said. In addition to his personality, he was quite good-looking, with his perfect, symmetrical bone structure, his lean body just as well-maintained as Chris's but in a different way. Chris's was sheer mass, stumbling around and overpowering who he needed to, while Piers's was lithe, limber, and strong - perfect for espionage, perfect for sneaking about and taking out his target without anyone knowing he'd ever been there. And those lips of his...

"This isn't funny, Chris," Claire's shrill voice interrupted.

Chris had completely tuned her out for a moment, losing himself in thoughts that he'd have to evaluate further when he was alone, because the last he checked, he was straight. Respecting a man and being envious of his youth was one thing, but wishing he could caress the irritated skin around his neck and noticing his supple pink lips was another.

"Sorry Claire," Chris apologized half-heartedly, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "I got distracted."

A tut from across the room caught Chris's attention, and he knew immediately where the sound of disapproval had come from. The twitchy, judgmental rookie was not impressed. This caused Chris's smile to grow even wider, aggravating the kid as well as his sister.

"Why don't we take a break and get breakfast," Leon suggested amicably, used to being the mediator in these familial squabbles. "Have you eaten yet, Chris?"

"I haven't, and I'm starving," Chris said, standing up from his chair and tossing his jacket on the back of his seat along with his tie. "Got anything decent to eat in this place?"

"Not bad," Leon answered, leading him out of the room.

They were at a buffet table down the hall in a room swarming with more suits than he wanted to see.

"You look like shit, by the way," Leon said, grabbing himself a muffin.

"Gee, thanks," he replied sarcastically. "I'd like to see you after you've slept six hours in the past forty-eight."

"You should sleep more," Leon suggested, like the smart ass he was. Before Chris had the chance to reply, Leon turned on his heel, having spotted Claire, and said, "we'll be back in a bit."

Unable to argue, as the man had already started to walk off, Chris grabbed a plate, a few slices of toast, and some muffins. What he really wanted was some protein, but the meat looked disgustingly fatty. So he settled and walked back down the hall and around the corner, wondering if Claire and Leon would be gone long enough for him to take a short nap. Probably not. But the quiet of the conference room still beat the unmistakable sound of asskissing that was going on out here.

He opened the door, unsurprised to see the kid still in his seat, albeit reading dossiers via the screen projected in the air. He didn't look up when Chris came in, too engrossed in the file. The only sign of acknowledgment was the clenching of his jaw.

Chris sat down across from him and leaned back in the leather swivel chair he'd previously occupied, munching on his breakfast. It wasn't particularly satisfying, but he took what he got. It was still better than the shit he got to eat while on field missions. It also gave him more of an opportunity to study the kid and think about his previous thoughts.

Chris had found himself drawn to men before, he had to admit, but he'd suppressed those urges and justified the attraction by saying the men in question had feminine features - delicate bodies in slender frames, soft-spoken voices, long hair, gentle demeanors. None of those qualities were applicable here. The only things feminine about the man across the table were his long eyelashes, full lips, and flushed skin. He wondered if it was as soft as it looked. His hands were rough, but that was to be expected from his line of work. The rest of his body looked much more supple.

Chris snapped himself away from this train of thought and shoved the paper plate to the man in question. "Eat."

"I've eaten, Captain, but thank you," he replied cordially, pushing the plate back.

Chris shrugged and took one of the pieces of toast, slathered jam across it, and devoured it. Once finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and sat up, a smile on his face.

"So how long are you going to keep your thoughts to yourself?" Chris asked, one of the corners of his mouth lifting up.

"What do you mean, Sir?" Piers asked, still distracted by his reading.

"You're more fidgety than a lab rat on cocaine," Chris pointed out bluntly. "The more you want to say something, the more fidgety you become."

His words momentarily caught Piers by surprise. There was just a hint of the emotion before he minimized the screen between them and faced his new captain with a neutral expression. "It's not my operation, Sir. It's not in my place to impose."

"I want you to," Chris said, regarding him seriously. "The Alpha team is a team. Yes, I take responsibility for the calls that I have to make at the end of the day, but that doesn't mean my way is always the best way. If another way has less casualties, less damage, less danger, then I'm not one to let my ego get in the way of that."

Piers's emerald eyes peered into his, as if trying to gauge whether his words had any meaning. He was used to falling into line and respecting the chain of command.

"Say what's on your mind, Piers," Chris urged. "I don't care what it is. Just say what you're thinking."

"I don't think you were paying attention at the briefing at all," Piers said frankly, his stony face regarding Chris with a bit of that petulance he knew was hidden away.

"I didn't notice you watching me," he admitted with a smile, "but you're right. I wasn't."

"You were watching me," he pointed out bluntly. "Why?"

Chris thought about this for a moment, deciding his progressively more inappropriate thoughts weren't the ones he would voice. Instead, he answered with the next best thing. "I think you're fun to watch."

Anyone else would have asked for clarification, but Piers either didn't want it or didn't need it. His choice of next words resonated deeply with Chris.

"Just know that I know when you're watching me, Captain," he said quietly. "There isn't a lot that slips by me. It's my job to notice things. And people. And I'm excellent at what I do."

"Good," Chris said without hesitation. "Now let me tell you how I'm running this operation, and you can tell me what you would do instead."

* * *

**A/N**: Any feedback is appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

19 September 2010 : 2200 hours

He was living one of those nightmares that could only happen in the dead of the night but shouldn't have been possible at all. The sun had set hours ago, hours after the last of the BOWs was taken down by a stealth ambush his team had almost silently laid down for it. They were in the process of disposing of the last infected individuals, a cure still nowhere in sight, finally ready to pack up and let the marines take care of capturing the politicians responsible for nearly wiping out their entire country. The BSAA's job wasn't to prosecute bad people. It was to fight biological terrorism and clear the infection. They'd done that by disposing of the infected, downing the BOWs, and securing the labs where their experiments were taking place. Their part was done.

They'd do a final sweep of the area in the morning before packing up and leaving by mid-week, if all went well. For now, they'd been treated to a night off from horrible living conditions in a camp in a nearby forest by being offered lodging in a hotel by a woman grateful that her husband had been saved. Foreseeing no further danger, Chris accepted the woman's offer of food and shelter.

What Chris hadn't considered was that the danger of BOWs wasn't the only thing Americans in hostile territory had to worry about. Two drinks and a steak into the evening, armed men burst into the small bar of the hotel and opened fire. Chris picked up the assault rifle that'd been placed carefully on the bench next to him and sprang up, returning fire and trying to get his men out of danger. Most of them had put away their weapons and were well on their way to being utterly drunk. That was okay, though. He was there to protect them.

Or so he thought. In an instant, the armed men were gone, leaving nothing but bullet holes and a scared barmaiden in their wake. Chris lowered his weapon and began a headcount, as Piers, the only other person who'd been armed, kept himself hunched over the bar with his sniper trained on the door, his eyes scanning the area.

"Henry's gone," Chris said, looking around the room wide-eyed. "HENRY!"

No response from anyone. They'd taken him hostage...

_Like __**hell **__they were taking him hostage!_

Chris charged toward the door like a wild rhino, kicking it open and storming out.

"CAPTAIN," he heard behind him, but he didn't care. Nothing in his mind was registering, other than the fact that one of his own wasn't safely accounted for.

He looked around, saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and ran toward it. He knew he'd gotten a few of those bastards. Maybe one of them was losing blood and had collapsed on the street, trying to crawl into a hole to hide in.

When he arrived at the alley he'd seen the movement in, he squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the light, seeing nothing but red fury. That's when he saw one of them, just as he'd suspected, lying face down on the floor. The makeshift military uniform stood out against the worn, grey walls and cracked pavement.

Chris strode meaningfully toward him and kicked him in his side harshly, flipping him over. He looked young. But so was Henry.

Sympathy wasn't in the cards for this bastard.

"Who the hell are you, and where the fuck did you take my man?" Chris demanded, stabbing the end of his gun into the man's chest. "Huh? Speak up if you don't want me to blow your brains out. You don't know who you're fucking with."

The man didn't respond, a slow smile creeping onto his face. Chris kicked him again with rage, eager to show him he wasn't in the mood for this bullshit. Just then, he heard a faint pop, and before he knew what was happening, an armed man dropped off the roof of the adjacent building and collapsed on top of his comrade.

Chris shot the uncooperative man mercilessly and looked around wildly for the source of the shot. Another one of them ran out from the opposite end of the alley, guns blazing. Chris was a quicker draw and a better shot, taking the third man out. He ran toward the direction he'd come from, checking to see if any more of them were present. He ran until he was back out on the street. This time, he was met with a punch to the face - something he wasn't expecting.

He stumbled from the force and looked around for the source and saw an angrier, more defiant Piers Nivans than he ever thought he'd witness. His mesh scarf was wrapped around his head and mouth, a machine gun resting on his back and a still hot sniper in his hands. He brought his bruised hand to his face and pulled the scarf down below his mouth, his chest heaving, his face flushed, and his green eyes staring wildly at him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Piers demanded, staring at his captain in disbelief, catching Chris off-guard with his blatant disrespect. "They were setting you up, and you walked right into it. If I hadn't gotten that guy first, you'd be the one lying face first on the ground right now."

Chris blinked at him, realizing he was right, but not being able to comprehend it right now. Chris was a professional normally, but this wasn't a normal situation. His thoughts were with the young, blond soldier whose even younger bride and newborn son were awaiting his return.

"I don't care. I'm going after Henry," he said, starting back down the street.

Piers caught him by his shoulder and forced him to turn around. "Marco's notifying the marines. This is their job. Kidnappings aren't our problem."

Chris looked at him as if he was insane. He stared into those cold, angry eyes, ready to say he'd misjudged the man standing before him. Until he saw something swimming a little deeper in his green orbs - fear. He was angry at Chris, because he'd been afraid he'd die.

When situations like these occurred, Chris's mind only allowed for one objective - recovery. He forgot that other people felt fear for him or for themselves. These were normal emotions, he supposed, but they weren't ones that had the priority at the moment.

Chris took a deep breath in, put both of his arms on his comrade's shoulders, and gave him a wry half-smile. "You don't have to come with me, but I'm going to get back Henry. No man left behind, remember?"

Piers clenched his jaw and looked away.

Chris dropped his hands and backed away, ready to go, until Piers pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to him. A badge. A security badge of a pharmaceutical company.

"Where did you-?" he began.

"One of the bodies you didn't bother searching," Piers said defiantly.

'Recovery mode' didn't always allow for logic and thoroughness.

"Well, thanks," Chris said sheepishly. "I'm going then."

"I'm coming, too," Piers said in exasperation. "You're going to get yourself killed if you keep going the way you are right now."

Chris studied Piers, saw the determination in his eyes, saw the small smile he was trying to hide, admired the way his body carried the weight of both guns, and the way his hair, which wasn't gelled for once, fluttered across his forehead in the wind along with the mesh scarf. He looked glorious, like a movie hero. Chris smiled, reminding himself to thank Jill and Claire when he got the chance.

He finally had a partner again - a true partner.

"Alright then, Soldier. Let's go," he said, his heartbeat quickening from excitement.

"You got it, _Chris_," he said, emphasizing his name with that snarky attitude of his that Chris had finally managed to wrangle out of him.

At that moment, Chris saw him in a whole new light, and his heart didn't skip a beat because of the mission. It faltered, because he knew that somewhere deep inside, he wanted to remove that damn scarf, brush the hair out his eyes, and kiss him.

And if they didn't have a team member to recover, he might have done just that.

* * *

23 March 2011 : 0115 hours

They'd recovered Henry. Chris had known the kid was good from training with him, seen he was good under pressure in the battlefield, and realized he had his back when he'd saved him from the sniper. From that moment onward, they'd worked together in perfect harmony in a way that Chris had never experienced before, not even with Jill.

Piers was calm and respectful 90% of the time and always seemed to know what Chris was thinking, but the other 10% of the time, he was petulant, always questioning Chris, always stopping Chris's brashness with his own. That 10% of the time was what Chris lived for, as it not only saved his life more than he cared to admit, but it also gave him a thrill he still wasn't ready to explain.

At present, the whole of Alpha team was preparing to fly back home from Africa. There hadn't been an outbreak. It'd actually been relatively calm, with only one problem that required their attention. Or HQ _thought _it would require their attention, anyway. It turned out to be a few leftovers from the last time he was here, and with their clean-up complete, they were ready to fly home in the morning.

Unfortunately, this remote part of the continent didn't have any hotels for miles, and they'd been camping for about a week now. Including tonight. Chris would be damned if he was going to sleep on the rock hard ground for another night. So he offered to keep watch, despite the motion detectors they'd set up around their campsite to alert them to movements miles away. He'd rather keep watch than sleep on the ground. He'd rather sleep on the damn cargo plane than sleep on the ground.

He heard a zipper, a tent being opened. Chris turned from the campfire to look who it was, expecting it to be Jeff. Jeff was a notorious night pisser. Instead, he was surprised to see a half-naked Piers emerge, in only his cargo pants. The younger man rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and walked over to Chris, plopping down on the ground next to him, leaning against the same weapons crate, so close that Chris could see his chest rise and fall with each rhythmic breath.

The campfire warmed the tone of his pale skin and accentuated each line of his defined muscles, particularly his arms and abdomen. He brought his knees up and hunched over them with a yawn, putting his arms on his knees and giving Chris a glimpse of his smooth, strong back. His green eyes danced in the light of the campfire.

"Couldn't sleep?" Chris questioned.

"I'm not one to have trouble sleeping, Captain," he replied, yawning again.

"No, it doesn't look it with the way you keep yawning," Chris said with a chuckle. "Why don't you go back to sleep?"

"No thank you, Captain," Piers declined, shaking his head once.

He wanted to keep Chris company, the older man realized at once, although he wasn't going to point that out. It would cause him embarrassment, or he would deny it and go back to his tent. Chris didn't really want either. Chris was usually a solitary creature, but he liked when Piers was around, and the captain had a feeling that it was a mutual sentiment.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you without the scarf," Chris observed. "I thought you slept with it on."

That comment elicited a rare laugh from the younger man. "You have a bad memory, Captain. I wasn't wearing it the first time we met."

Chris thought back to that day six months ago when he'd instantly bonded with the young sniper sitting next to him and realized that, indeed, he wasn't wearing it then. "Hmm... So you weren't."

"It bothers you, doesn't it?" Piers asked him. "Why?"

"Well," Chris said, considering the question, "it used to be because I found them pointless and pretentious. Once I met you and saw how well it actually helped camouflage someone who knows what he's doing, I guess it still bothered me because it's uncomfortable for you."

Piers furrowed his brow. "It's not uncomfortable for me."

"Well it looks it," Chris countered immediately. "Your neck gets blotchy and red."

"Does it?" Piers asked, instinctively bringing his hand up to his neck to feel for any such skin irritation. "I must not notice."

"I notice," Chris said, looking over to his partner and locking eyes with him in an almost uncomfortably intense staring contest.

Chris didn't know what he was trying to convey to Piers with the intensity in his gaze. Well, he knew what he was trying to convey, but he knew Piers wasn't a mind reader. Over the past six months, Chris's urge to touch and kiss the man grew. He wanted to protect him and hold him, but the sexual being inside him also wanted a struggle, a fight for dominance. He stopped trying to put a label on himself, stopped thinking about how he'd gone through his life this long without falling for anyone at all, only to be undone by a kid like this. Instead, he focused on trying to repress the growing desire he felt in the pit of his stomach, knowing that if he verbalized his desires, he'd at best get a punch in the face and at worst lose another partner.

Chris cleared his throat and forced a smile. "Just because I'm not a cocky bastard who brags about how perceptive I am doesn't mean I'm walking around, banging into walls."

Piers shook his head, fighting a smile. His change of tone had the desired effect on the object of his affections, turning his forced smile into a very real one.

"You know, thinking back to the first time we met, I don't think we've talked about our personal lives since then," Chris remarked carefully.

"I don't like to talk about myself much, Captain," Piers said. "Not unless Director Valentine forces alcohol down my throat."

Chris chuckled quietly. "She does have that effect on people. There's nothing I can keep secret from her."

"Captain, do you mind if I ask _you _something personal, if it's not out of line?" Piers asked hesitantly, his already rosy cheeks flushing a bit deeper, his face strained.

Chris looked at him curiously. "You can ask me anything. We're done with the mission and waiting for pick-up. Consider us off-duty. Like we're at a bar. Only a bit less... air-conditioned."

Piers didn't laugh. Instead he turned to face Chris and took a deep breath. "You and the Director- some of the guys say that you're..."

"Fucking?" Chris supplied helpfully, waiting for a flustered nod of confirmation before answering. "We're not. We're close, but it's always been platonic." He paused for a moment, before squinting his eyes in remembrance. "Well, always platonic excluding one night."

"Oh," Piers said quietly, looking back into the fire.

Chris examined the man's face, saw something there he couldn't quite recognize, as it was mostly masked by the carefully constructed facade of indifference he'd nearly perfected in an effort to hide his emotions.

Chris felt the need to clarify. "We were on a mission, and things got bad. Our entire team was killed, we'd evaded capture for days but were growing tired of running. We had no way to communicate with HQ. We were sure we were going to die. There was so much frustration, so much fear, and we took comfort in each other. That was all it was - a one-time physical release."

Piers nodded almost imperceptibly. The unreadable expression was still on his face, tugging at Chris to try to make it go away.

"We've never had romantic feelings for each other," Chris continued.

"There's no need to explain any further, Captain," Piers said roughly.

And just like that, the wall was back up, and Piers was all business, even if he wasn't wearing the stupid scarf and didn't have a weapon strapped to his back.

"I feel like I need to," Chris admitted.

"Why?" Piers asked, turning his head to face Chris again.

"Because... I don't know," Chris said in exasperation. "Your entire demeanor changed. I thought we could have a friendly conversation instead of a formal one for once. The only time you ever drop your guard is when you're talking back to me. It'd be nice if you did it once while not biting my head off."

Piers stood up and brushed his pants off. "I'm going to sleep, Captain. I'll see you in the morning."

Chris watched the man walk back to his tent and sighed. That had come out a lot worse than he'd intended. He actually _liked _when Piers challenged him, but instead he made it sound like he was an insolent soldier, incapable of being anything but an annoyance.

He didn't even know how he could apologize for something like that. So he squandered away a rare opportunity to spend the night with Piers Nivans, the frustrating soldier who'd slowly captured his heart and held his balls in his hands.

* * *

11 June 2011 : 1900 hours

Punctual as always, Chris walked into the bar where he was meeting Jill. He hadn't seen her in nearly two months. He'd finally found out what she'd agreed to in exchange for the army handing over Piers's contract. She had volunteered to help train their Black Ops in bomb disposal and espionage. Her directing duties at the BSAA were dispersed among the others at HQ, and she'd been off. But now she was back, at the best time possible.

The whole of Alpha team was on a well-deserved leave for two weeks, and without her, he'd be terribly bored. He was going to visit his sister for a few days next week, but this week, he had nothing on his itinerary, and all the friends he had were on Alpha team, and they were all going to visit loved ones or going with their wives and children on vacation. Well, he had _some_ other friends, but they had the same horrible habit as he did of traveling and disappearing for days, weeks, or months at a time.

The bar was crowded, as he'd expected. Despite the college crowd being largely gone for summer, there were enough non-students in Raccoon who liked to come out of their holes to party when it got hot. Upon entering, he was immediately noticed by a group of girls near the steps leading to the pool tables, and one of them - a busty blonde, at least ten years his junior, pranced over to him, swaying her hips and licking her lips.

"I haven't seen you around here before," she said, putting her small hand on his chest.

"I don't usually come around here," he replied with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm Nicole," she said, leaning closer into him.

"Chris," he replied, unable to stop himself from looking down at her ample bosom. She was shoving it in his face.

"How about a dance, Chris?" she asked, her painted lips turning upward into a flirtatious smile, clearly aware of where his line of sight had drifted.

"Maybe later," he said, looking back up into her eyes. "I'm meeting a friend."

"A friend or a _girl_friend," she questioned.

"A friend," he replied with a laugh. "I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

He didn't know why he'd supplied that information, except that maybe he could use her to blow off some steam, some of the frustration that'd been building inside lately because a certain soldier, who was already in fantastic shape when he joined Alpha team, but had filled out a bit more, turning from a boy he wanted to coddle into a man he wanted to fuck.

"Well then," she purred, "come find me later. Maybe we could see each other for the night."

"Maybe," he agreed with a chuckle.

She turned on her heel and strutted back over to her friends, who were giggling madly. What he noticed was how nice her ass was.

He cleared his head of all perverted thoughts and resumed his search to find Jill. What he saw instead was Piers, standing at the bar, his eyes boring into Chris's. His hair was sticking up as usual, and he was wearing faded jeans and the same black tee he was wearing the first night they met. Well, it probably wasn't the same one. He probably had five more just like it. Piers struck him as the sort of person who didn't like frilly clothing. He probably liked to remain discrete wherever he went, although Chris knew that to be impossible, as the light in his eyes and his overwhelmingly good looks made him the main attraction - a precious stone in a room full of painted rocks.

Chris fought his way to the bar and yelled over the music. "Hey! What are you doing here?"

"The Director invited me," Piers answered, signaling for another beer from the bartender, who was a woman who appeared to be just as captivated by Piers as he was.

"You're not going out of town for leave?" Chris shouted. He thought everyone was.

"Nowhere to go," Piers replied back. "My dad died last month."

Chris was almost physically knocked back by the news and the frank way Piers had disclosed it.

Piers handed the beer to Chris and began walking away. Chris reached out his arm and stopped him, pulling him away from where he was headed and into him.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have given you time off," Chris said, his eyes filling with concern.

"I didn't want it," Piers replied, meeting his gaze defiantly. "I didn't want a fuss. I wanted to go on the mission."

"You should have told me anyway," Chris said. "We could have talked about it."

Piers shrugged him off. "Nothing to talk about, Captain."

Chris blinked at the young man in shock. Oh no. He wasn't getting off the easily. He'd been odd for months now, catching and cutting himself off when he started to disagree, falling into line far too easily, avoiding conversation that didn't have to do with work. If he was still peeved about what he'd said in Africa, then it was about damn time Chris fixed it. He thought things would go back to how they were before with time, but then the damn kid didn't even tell him that his own father died.

Chris caught Piers by the shoulder again and used sheer, brute force to drag him toward the exit. He heard the blonde chick call after him, but he couldn't have cared less. Nor did he care about Jill, who he hadn't seen in three months, who had also managed to spot them and was calling out his name as well.

"Let go of me, Captain," Piers demanded once they were outside the doors.

"We need to talk," he replied firmly, "I don't care if you say you don't want to or that we don't need to. This is an order."

Piers glared at him so venomously that Chris thought he might actually kill him. Then, suddenly, he relaxed, giving in, and Chris sighed a breath of relief. He relaxed his grip. "We can grab a cab to my house."

Piers pursed his lips, opened and closed his mouth once, twice, then finally said with a defeated sigh, "no need. My apartment is a block east of here."

"Lead the way," Chris said, letting go of the young man and raising his hands to show he was no danger.

The walk through the crowded streets was awkward and quiet, with Chris following closely behind Piers so as to not lose him. Once they'd cut through the bulk of the crowd, Piers turned down a side street and immediately stuck a key into a gated door. He walked through it, giving it a good shove so that it stayed open for Chris behind him. It wasn't exactly holding the door for him, but it was better than being smacked in the face by it, he supposed.

They walked up a staircase, and Piers searched for the key to his apartment, his keychain jangling noisily.

"I didn't take you for a city guy," Chris said.

He expected Piers to be like him, a lone wolf who preferred peace and quiet to drunken fighting and police cars outside his window at 3AM. People who lived in cities were usually obnoxiously loud themselves, going out every night, living from day-to-day.

"I can't sleep when it's too quiet," Piers said, finally finding the right key and opening up the door.

He held it open for Chris this time, closing and locking the door behind them.

Piers's apartment was sparsely decorated, bookcases covering the walls but not a TV in sight. It was meticulously neat, unlike the mess that awaited Chris when he came home every day. Chris drifted to one of the shelves and saw a shelf covered with historical texts about times of war. He ran his fingers along the spines and moved to the next case, which were filled with guides to weaponry. Another had philosophy, and one was completely chalked full of scientific texts.

"This isn't just for the BSAA, is it?" Chris asked, studying the titles on the shelves, which were primarily focused on genetics and bioengineering. There were so many that he doubted they were all a recent acquisition.

"No," Piers replied, moving to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. "I was going to take a break from the military after my contract was up to study biology."

Chris remembered that Piers had said he'd been offered positions out of high school at top universities. "Jill didn't mess that up by making you join the BSAA, did she?"

"Are you kidding?" Piers asked, leaning back onto the kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for the drip to finish. "This is first-hand experience, isn't it? I'm privy to information and experience here that I'd never be able to access through academia alone."

"What's your end goal?" Chris asked, dropping his hand from the shelf and moving around to lean against the counter opposite of Piers in the kitchen.

"The same as yours, Captain," Piers said, shrugging. "I want to make the world safe again."

"You're too bright to be in the BSAA," Chris said with a shake of his head.

"I am where I want to be," he shot back defiantly.

They stood, staring at each other for a few long moments before the coffee machine started to noisily suck in the last remnants of water. Both ignored it.

"What do you want, Chris?" he asked coldly, sending shivers down Chris's spine.

It'd been a long time since Piers had called him by his first name, and it made him happier than he wanted to admit, especially since it was said with palpable hatred.

"_That_," Chris replied. "I want you to call me 'Chris' occasionally and be the brat you are. I don't know what you're pissed about, but if it's about what I said in Africa back in _March_, then you need to get over it. I didn't mean it as a bad thing. You're the best damn soldier I have."

Piers's lips thinned as he pulled them taut in a frown. He uncrossed his arms and put his hands on the counter behind him as support, so he could toss back his head and let out a deep breath.

"It's not what you said," Piers said finally, looking up at the ceiling, then down to the floor, then off to the side.

"I'm not a mind-reader," Chris said in frustration, glad that at least Piers wasn't denying that something had changed that night. It made things easier. "What the hell did I do?"

Piers still didn't look at him. He stood there, grinding his teeth, his cold green eyes staring stonily at the kitchen wall. Finally, he fixed his steely gaze on Chris. "I told you, didn't I? I told you the first time we met that I was watching you watch me. That never stopped."

"So?" Chris asked, urging him to continue.

"I didn't miss how you were looking at me, Captain," Piers said bluntly.

Chris swallowed, for the first time in his life lost for words. Chris had never been good at hiding his people watching, he knew, but he studied everyone, so he didn't think Piers would be able to distinguish the way Chris watched him from the way he watched everyone else. Apparently the kid was better than he was at this game, because he'd figured out what Chris had barely realized himself at that point.

He'd made him feel uncomfortable, like a slab of meat. He'd fucked up royally and done that which he'd been trying hard to not do.

This was the closest to embarrassed that Chris was capable of feeling, but he sucked it up and tucked it into the back of his mind for another day, a day when he could drown himself in alcohol in the privacy of his own home. Tomorrow, perhaps?

For now, he had to do what he'd set out - fix this. Any Piers in his life was better than no Piers at all.

Chris started to speak slowly. "I'm sorry for making you feel uncomfortable. It was inappropriate of me as your superior, and it won't happen again."

Piers looked away again, a burst of something appearing in his eyes. Yes, he was definitely better at hiding his emotions than Chris was.

"My word is good, you know that," Chris continued. "So can we go back to how things were before? If not for me, for the good of the team and our work?"

Piers's eyes snapped back up, and he shook his head. "No."

"No?" Chris asked in surprise.

"No," Piers repeated. "I don't think that's possible."

Chris sighed and dropped his head and ran his right hand through his hair. This was what he'd been afraid of, what a small part of him had been expecting.

"If you want to request a transfer to another unit, I'll sign off on it," Chris said weakly.

"No," Piers said again.

Chris looked up again in confusion. "So what, then?"

Piers clenched his fists on the counter so hard his hands turned white. He grit his teeth again and looked at Chris with the same passion he'd grown to love from the man. "The problem isn't with you, Captain. It's with me. I... I was straight."

"I was, too," Chris said instantly, completely caught off-guard from the turn this conversation had taken.

"I started having these... _thoughts _about you, but I tried to push them back. Then that night, when I asked you about the Commander, I got jealous, and I knew what I was feeling wasn't going to go away on its own. So I tried to distance myself to clear my head," Piers said, swallowing hard.

_Holy fucking shit_. Chris wasn't oblivious enough to not know what Piers had just admitted to him. The lurid thoughts, the fantasies, the desires he'd been feeling for Piers since he'd met him weren't one-sided.

"Did it work?" Chris asked roughly, knowing it sure as hell hadn't worked for him. If anything, it made him want Piers more.

"No," Piers replied with an empty laugh. He shook his head.

Chris would have liked to say they had jumped into each other's arms and embraced passionately, but Chris was far too rational and Piers far too reserved. He thought about the consequences of making a move. Just because Piers wanted him didn't mean that Piers actually _wanted _him. He doubted Piers would file a complaint with HR, but things could quickly become awkward in their professional setting, especially as Chris was the CO of Alpha team, and Piers was next in the chain-of-command.

But as he looked at Piers, all those considerations began to matter less and less. He was standing in front of him, within reach, fire dancing in his eyes, the smooth, pale skin of his neck uncovered, his loose shirt still showing his toned physique, his arms flexed, his lips calling out to him. Chris stepped forward slowly, as if worried his actions would startle Piers.

Piers, however, remained unmoved, so Chris took another small step, his feet now on either side of Piers's. He reached out his rough hand and touched the skin he'd wanted to feel for so long now. Piers looked up at him, unblinking, as Chris ran his fingers over his subordinate's neck. It was just as soft as he imagined, even though it was always being irritated by that damn scarf. His hand drifted up his neck and to his jaw, his thumb running over the man's noticeably flushed cheeks.

"Captain," Piers said, swallowing roughly, his voice sounding more unsure than Chris had ever heard it.

"Fuck it all to hell," Chris said, taking his other hand and using it to dislodge Piers from the counter and into him.

He kissed him like he'd never kissed anyone before, unafraid of having to be gentle or breaking who he was with. His rough lips devoured Piers's, as the younger man wrapped his arms around him, battling him for control almost instantaneously. The sensation was different from anything Chris had ever felt before. Through the thin fabric of Piers's t-shirt, he could feel his strong back flexing beneath his fingers, and his face, although softer than any woman's, was also more rugged, his lips more fierce.

Piers's large hands made their way down his back, above the waist of his jeans, and dipped under the fabric of his shirt, his touch as electrifying as his kiss. Following the younger man's lead, Chris reached below his shirt as well, unsurprised that his skin there was just as soft and supple as the skin on his neck and face. He was rewarded with a shiver as goosebumps covered Piers's back. The jerk caused Chris's teeth to catch on his partner's lip, drawing blood.

Chris pulled back from the metallic taste and opened his mouth to apologize, his arms still firmly around him, when he saw Piers's hungry gaze, one of his hands slipping up to touch his bruised lip.

"You liked that, didn't you?" Chris asked in amazement.

Piers immediately closed his mouth and clenched his teeth. He did, but he'd never admit it. He was too proud to reply, but at that moment, excitement shot through Chris. If this was the tip of the iceberg for him, then that meant Piers was a masochist. If that was the case, then Chris, who'd been having dreams of dominating Piers into submission, had hit the jackpot.

"We're going to bed," Chris said firmly.

"What?" Piers asked, startled.

_Good_. He could be something but a little bastard for once.

"Through there?" Chris asked, nodding to a door at the end of the living room.

He didn't wait for a reply before he forcefully dragged Piers through the living room and into what he'd rightly assumed was his bedroom. He kicked the door open and shoved Piers onto the bed. Piers was like a deer caught in headlights, sitting frozen on the bed. Chris lifted his shirt over the top of his head and was pleased to see Piers's eyes rake over his body, just like Chris had done to him all those months ago.

He walked over to the bed and crawled over the top of Piers, pushing his back flat onto the bed and kissing him again. Piers recovered from his shock to return the heated kisses, eventually bringing his hands up to the Captain's chest, causing him to groan when his thumbs ran over his nipples. Chris ground himself into Piers, knowing he'd grown to half-mast in the kitchen, from a simple kiss, like a teenage boy. He was eager to see if Piers had as strong of a response, but his jeans were too rigid to feel through.

Chris sat up, taking a moment to catch his breath and simultaneously pulling the hem of Piers's shirt over his head. The view was just as it had been then, but he had an advantage this time. He could touch him. So he did. He ran his hands over the younger man's taut, defined abs, his strangely adorable belly button, up to the pink, perky knobs of flesh that were heaving with each breath he took. He felt Piers shiver again, and Chris could be held back no longer. As much as he wanted to relish this moment, just looking at this petulant but pure kid made him about ready to cum.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," Chris said, "but that ain't enough. Not anymore."

Piers flushed, but his eyes were as eager as ever. Chris unbuttoned the man's jeans, crawled off him, and tugged both them and his boxers down, a rather excited cock springing up and slapping up against its owner's abdomen. Chris's jeans quickly followed, and Piers looked more scared and more excited than the man had ever seen him, his eyes wide but his lips slightly parted.

Chris crawled back onto the bed and reached into Piers's bedside table. As expected, he found a bottle of lotion next to tissues and condoms in the first drawer. It was what his drawer looked like, too. The bottle cap clicking open echoed in the quiet room, and Chris squeezed a small amount onto his hand.

"What are you-?"

Piers's question was cut off by Chris's lips meeting his again. The kiss was rougher than it was before, and Chris's lips slowly drifted down his jaw and toward his neck, sucking, nipping, and kissing until he reached his neck. Piers groaned from pleasure, and Chris took the opportunity to run his lotioned hand down to Piers's manhood. He'd never handled another man's cock, but he doubted it was any different from his own.

He grasped the base, eliciting a stronger gasp, and started to stroke it. Chris stopped kissing Piers and scooted down the bed. Piers, who had his eyes closed in ecstasy, didn't notice. It was only when Chris slipped a lotioned finger into his anus that he opened his eyes.

"Don't think about it," Chris ordered, seeing the panicked look on Piers's face.

He had no idea what he was doing, but if he wanted to fuck Piers more than just the once, he'd have to make damn sure he was doing everything he could to ease the experience. Piers's rigid body relaxed after a moment and closed his eyes again, and Chris continued trying to loosen his hole with one finger first, then another, and then a third, his movements in time with his hand.

Piers was getting close, his breathing getting faster, his body covered in a sheen of sweat, his cock twitching beneath him, and Chris thought it was now or never. He stopped his movements and withdrew from Piers, despite a groan of objection.

Chris parted Piers's legs even further and grabbed the bottle of lotion, slathering up his rigid, crying cock as much as he could.

"Captain, I don't know if - "

"Don't worry," Chris assured him, although he wasn't so sure himself. "If it's too much, tell me to stop, and I'll stop. _This _time."

This gentleness was a one time thing, he implied. Next time, he'd have him bound and gagged, just like he dreamed about. And if Piers wanted to fight him, that was even better. He had a feeling that's what both of them really wanted.

But not tonight. Tonight was about safety.

Piers nodded, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he watched Chris push the head of his cock inside of him. He winced and shut his eyes. Chris immediately felt bad, but he didn't want to stop unless Piers told him to. And he didn't think Piers was one to give into pain. So he pushed inside a bit further.

"You okay?" Chris asked, halting his movements to check in.

"Fine, Captain," Piers said, his voice strained.

"Okay then," Chris said, and he pushed the rest of the way in.

Piers was so unbelievably tight, squeezing every inch of his cock with an overwhelming force. He pulled out everything but the tip and bent over Piers, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

"Just try to relax," Chris said, kissing the man's lips, then cheek, then down to his shoulder. "I'm going back in."

Piers nodded with his eyes closed, and Chris thrust back in as gently as he could, already starting to feel Piers loosen up, thankfully. So he began his rhythm slowly, hearing Piers's painful panting at some point turn into moans of pleasure when Chris hit a particular spot inside him. He committed it to memory and went for the same area again.

Piers's wilted cock had become hard again. He was enjoying himself now, and that motivated the Captain to close his eyes and bathe himself in the feeling of Piers and the way his hands clutched his arms.

"You have no idea how good you feel, Piers," Chris whispered. "No. Fucking. Idea."

"Chris," Piers moaned. "I'm close."

"Me, too," Chris said almost bitterly.

It was embarrassing how quickly he was going to finish, but he was going to make sure Piers came with him. He sat up and held apart the younger man's thighs, his pace becoming quicker, more frenzied. He trained his eyes on Piers, willing himself to remember the way he looked right now - writhing on the bed beneath him, covered in sweat, plump lips parted, long eyelashes fluttering open and shut as passionate emerald eyes watched him, his hard cock bouncing up and down off his chest.

Chris reached down and grasped the base again, stroking it roughly. Once, twice, three times, and Piers squirted his cum all over his stomach as his entire body convulsed. He tightened around Chris so much that it almost hurt. Chris came in him, unable to pull out quickly enough to stop it. He rode out his orgasm inside of him, pulling out his limp remains once he was done, his cum squirting out of Piers's body.

Feeling breathless and more satisfied than he ever remembered feeling before, Chris crawled next to Piers and collapsed on his back.

"It was good for me, too," Piers said, apparently regaining his ability to speak. Chris turned to face him, but his eyes were closed. "I thought I'd tell you before you started worrying about it."

A smile crept across Chris's face, and he chuckled, reached for the comforter at the edge of the bed, and pulled it up over them.

"I'm glad we had this talk tonight," Chris said with a laugh.

Chris expected a smart ass reply, but instead, he was rewarded with a hearty laugh by the normally serious man. This was so endearing that Chris couldn't refrain from scooting next to him until he was touching him. He was pleased that Piers turned to face him, finally opening his eyes, his eyes dancing mirthfully, a light-hearted smile on his face. Chris wrapped his arm around Piers and pulled his body flush with his, their legs intertwining.

Chris leaned over to kiss him chastely.

"You're pretty damn cute, you know?" Chris asked him.

"I don't know if the rest of the team would agree," Piers said with a laugh.

"I'm happier knowing they don't," Chris said seriously. "From here on out, you're mine, kid. On the field and off."

"Whatever," Piers said, shrugging. "If it means that you're not touching anybody else either, then I'm fine with that."

"I don't need anyone else," Chris said firmly. "I've finally found the perfect partner."

"Your rapid response tactic for singular BOW sightings in non-hostile countries is idiotic, by the way," Piers said, closing his eyes and nestling his head into a pillow. "You're wasting BSAA time and resources by deploying entire teams. You need one explosives expert, one half-decent sniper, and _maybe _a scout, if you're in an unfamiliar region. You can take down most of these BOWs by knocking them over and popping them in the back of the head. Setting up a parameter and unleashing an onslaught of bullets doesn't do anything. What actually kills the small fry is the rogue bullet that gets them between the eyes. Thought you should know."

Chris blinked. Was it _really_? He thought about it carefully and realized that upon confirming the deaths of the smaller BOWs, there _was _always a bullet hole in one specific region of the head.

"And your stealth training is a joke. It's no wonder we can't surprise an enemy as idiotic as a BOW when you and Marco go rampaging in like you're drunk. We should be doing exercises in wooded and mountainous areas with simulated gun shots. Every man for himself. So that they can learn to listen to the subtleties of human movements. People in Europe and Africa and South America know the difference between the sound an animal makes when it walks through the woods and the sound a man makes when he breaks a tree branch. We should be training to differentiate those and how to mask our own movements. Breaking down doors works for BOWs, but it leaves us wide open for the sons of bitches who unleashed them."

Chris considered this for a moment and realized Piers was right. Their tactics worked for BOWs and infected people, but for normal, uninfected people of human intelligence, they didn't. In all their specialized training with biological warfare, they'd become rusty in their ability to deal with people. It was how he'd almost lost a man last yer.

"Oh, and you need to stop telling your jokes during PT. They're ridiculous," he said.

Chris's jaw dropped, and Piers opened his eyes, a Cheshire cat smile spreading across his lips.

"Are you making fun of me?" he demanded, laughter starting to rumble within his chest.

"Maybe a little," he admitted, snaking his arm around Chris. "The Director told me you were self-conscious about your jokes."

"Jill," Chris hissed, his eyes narrowed.

"She called, by the way," Piers said. "Your phone went off _during_. You probably didn't notice."

"I didn't," Chris confirmed. "I'll have to call her and reschedule."

"Do it later," Piers said, rolling over onto Chris and straddling his hips. "You're busy right now."

Chris chuckled deeply. "Welcome back, Soldier."

"It's good to be back, Captain."

* * *

_Author's Note_: And there it is. Short and sweet. I know I skipped through quite a bit of time, but this story was never intended to be about battles. I merely used an outbreak as an excuse to throw these two together. I also didn't feel the need to throw in awkward exchanges between them. I thought I'd skip the amount of time I figured it would take for them to realize they were horny for each other. Haha. Select moments of importance. I hope you enjoyed. :D


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